


Wingtip to Wingtip

by Rethira



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-19
Updated: 2012-06-19
Packaged: 2017-11-08 02:57:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/438378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rethira/pseuds/Rethira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m older than you, Naesala.” Reyson smiles fondly. “If anyone was seducing anyone, I rather think it would have been <i>me</i>.”</p>
<p>“I had more experience,” Naesala replies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wingtip to Wingtip

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the fe_fest prompt: _Fire Emblem 9/10 - Naesala/Reyson - you'll always be my first love_

Reyson stares out over Serenes; the forest is finally restored. Finally as it should be. Greenery stretches every which way, the air is full of birdsong and he can hear people and animals moving about. There are Hawks and Ravens in the air above the trees, and their movements look like dancing. Every so often, there’s a flash of white wings – Leanne cannot bear to stay grounded when their brethren fly up high, and often joins them in the sky, pushing herself to her limits simply for the joy of it. Reyson often joins her, and he and Tibarn sketch lazy circles around the trees, flying wingtip to wingtip.

When Rafiel visits, Tibarn always offers to carry him, let him experience flight again. Rafiel always declines with soft words of apology, of regret, and a glance towards his waiting Wolf Queen. Reyson and Leanne fly for him instead, and Reyson pretends not to see the way Rafiel flexes his ruined wings. Rafiel is not the only grounded Heron of course; their father is better than he had been, but he still turns from the sky, clings to the grass beneath his feet and the quiet places where he can remember the time before. Lehran too, chooses not to fly. He no longer constrains his wings, but it is plain to see that they had been all but ruined already. The muscles were wasted, and the feathers… Leanne had berated Lehran for his feathers, and he had simply replied that the only person he let care for them had died. She had since bullied him into regular grooming, and Reyson sometimes sees Lehran sunning his wings, stretching them wide and flexing them, so perhaps one day he will take to the skies once again.

But today, Reyson is watching for a different pair of black wings. Today Naesala will be returning, as he does so very rarely, and Reyson is determined – he will not let Naesala escape this time. It has been many years since the war, and yet Naesala still acts like a recalcitrant child. It would be funny if it wasn’t quite so annoying. There was too much between them, and it seemed Naesala was determined to ignore it.

Reyson was most definitely _not_.

Finally, just as the sun is setting, Reyson spots a familiar sight. Blue-black wings, distinctly Naesala’s, soaring above the trees. He circles above before darting down like a flash, transforming as he does so. Reyson hops off the balcony and goes down to greet him – although perhaps ‘catch him’ would be more appropriate.

It is most definitely _not_ gratifying to see Naesala flinch when Reyson touches down beside him.

“Prince Reyson,” Naesala says, his voice taking a distinctly unpleasant tone. He sketches a bow, and Reyson frowns.

“That’s not necessary, Naesala,” Reyson murmurs. “You must know that.”

“We’ve hardly spoken lately,” Naesala begins. He seems to catch himself, and takes a step backwards. “I’m afraid I must be off; politics you know, can’t keep Tibarn waiting-”

“Tibarn’s in bed. Sleeping. Unless you want to join him, I doubt he’ll be pleased to see you,” Reyson replies, dryly. He doesn’t miss the way Naesala flinches again, like Reyson’s struck him a blow. “We need to talk, Naesala.”

“You’ll forgive me when I say there is absolutely nothing I want to talk about-”

“You were my first love.”

Naesala stops in his tracks. He almost falls over. His wings are half spread, and his face his frozen, and he doesn’t so much as twitch when Reyson steps closer and presses a gentle kiss to his cheek. When Reyson moves away again, Naesala lets out a breath in a rush.

“Ready to talk now?” Reyson asks, and to his own surprise, Naesala folds his wings and lets Reyson lead him to a more secluded place. He all but pulls Naesala onto the bench beside him, and for a moment, Reyson simply has to gather his thoughts.

“This is a wonderful talk we’re having,” Naesala grumbles, but it’s half-hearted at best.

“I forgave you, you know,” Reyson says. “I forgave you a long time ago.”

“But there are so _many_ things you could be talking about,” Naesala replies, facetiously. “Selling you to that mound of lard. Siding with Daein. The massacre at Phoenicis.” Naesala pauses. “Seducing you when you were just a-”

“I’m older than you, Naesala.” Reyson smiles fondly. “If anyone was seducing anyone, I rather think it would have been _me_.”

“I had more experience,” Naesala replies, frowning a little.

“The point is, Naesala, _I forgive you_. You were my best friend, and I know that fell apart, but-” Reyson stops, and lays his hand over Naesala’s. “Stop running away from me. I missed you.”

A shaky breath leaves Naesala, and his wings shake. He doesn’t meet Reyson’s eyes, and keeps staring at their hands. His wings twitch restlessly, and his free hand clenches on his leg.

“I- Reyson, you must understand-” Naesala finally looks up, his face betraying his desperation. “I chose to do most of those things. I wasn’t simply being forced into it, whatever you may think.”

Reyson smiles. “I know, Naesala. I know and I forgive you. Is that really so very hard to grasp?”

Something seems to break in Naesala; he shudders. “I loved you. I love you. I know I didn’t- you were never meant to know,” Naesala says, all in a rush. “And then Serenes-”

Reyson leans forward and slowly draws Naesala into a hug. Another shudder wracks Naesala’s frame, and Reyson would almost expect him to start crying. But this is Naesala, so all he does is lean against Reyson’s shoulder, wings drawn close. He shakes a bit, and Reyson strokes his fingers through Naesala’s hair.

“You were the first thing I ever really loved,” Naesala breathes. “And then Tibarn took you away from me.”

“Oh,” Reyson replies, and he nudges Naesala’s chin up, so he can press a soft, sweet kiss to Naesala’s lips; he knows he shouldn’t, knows that this will probably just hurt them both in the long run, but Reyson can’t bring himself to care.

Naesala makes a desperate noise against Reyson’s lips, and drags himself away. He looks alarmingly vulnerable, in a way Reyson has never seen him before, and he aches for it. Reyson reaches for Naesala again, just to touch, he tells himself, just to reassure. Naesala lets him, and if he still shakes a little, Reyson doesn’t mention it.

After a time, Naesala says, “Won’t Tibarn be missing you?” His voice is slightly scratchy, and harsh.

“He knows where I am,” Reyson replies, easily. “You don’t have to worry about retribution.”

“You’re going back to him.” It’s not a question, and Reyson can only imagine what it costs Naesala to say that.

“Yes,” Reyson agrees.

“Good,” Naesala murmurs.

Naesala leaves again the next morning. Reyson stares after him, and doesn’t look away until Tibarn comes to stand beside him, and rests a warm hand on Reyson’s lower back.

“He’ll be back,” Tibarn says. “He always comes back.”

“I know.” Reyson leans into Tibarn’s touch, and smiles a sad smile.

The next time Naesala’s blue-black wings appear on the horizon, Reyson flies out to meet him, and they scribe circles in the sky, the tips of their wings just touching.


End file.
